


One of Your Father's Getting

by valderys



Category: Much Ado About Nothing (2012), Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curse him, Don Pedro thought viciously, damn him.  Benedick was the prince's fool indeed, for by this one action he had cut up all his hopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Your Father's Getting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thistlerose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/gifts).



> I'm sorry this doesn't contain more actual Beatrice/Benedict, but this was the story that popped into my mind when I was lucky enough to get your assignment - as a pinch hit written in two days, I hope you can forgive me their romance as filtered through the jealous yet honourable lens of Don Pedro.

Don Pedro watched him tiptoe down the stairs that morning. A crumpled looking man in a stale t-shirt and dirty jeans. Don Pedro himself hadn't been able to sleep - too busy thinking of the next battle, the next war, politics was a game that was never really over. He'd gotten up to get a glass of water, to appreciate the crispness of the fine morning, before the heat of the day began to creep in, and so he was there, he saw Benedick come sneaking down the stairs. His first lieutenant, his right hand man in the everlasting battle that was Washington, that was all primaries and polls and blood on the carpet, came creeping down the stairs like a coward from _her_ room.

Don Pedro was lucky that he didn't drop the glass.

He'd blinked, he remembered, and had to think about whose room was logistically likely to be reached by that particular staircase, his keen analytical mind still mostly asleep, it took him several seconds. And then several seconds more as he processed the implications, the thought of Leonato's shock and horror if he ever knew, if he guessed, the knock-on effects to the party and to his own campaigns if Leonato's financial support was withdrawn... The consequences didn't bear thinking about.

The stupidity of Benedick's behaviour, the crassness of his liaison in such a house, was what occurred to him next. How could Benedick, usually so clever, so facile, so deft in so many political arenas, be so short-sighted as to give in to such a base urge? Admittedly, they'd all drunk heavily the night before, it was the norm, especially here - Leonato was a generous host, with wine from his own vineyards served more often than not. And it was a safe space, after all, no need to be concerned for the paparazzi, Leonato's security was second to none, so they could all afford to kick back and relax for a while. But there was a difference between relaxing one's guard and _this_ , as Benedick should know better than anyone.

It was only then, finally, at the last, that Don Pedro allowed himself to mourn his own personal ambitions. He supposed that was the norm too, he had long known that he was expected to sacrifice everything to public life, had reconciled himself to it even, until he saw Benedick, supposedly the soldier standing between Don Pedro and all the vicissitudes of this life, so casually walk down those stairs, crushing carelessly, unwittingly, all the unvoiced delicate hopes that Don Pedro had occasionally allowed himself to dream about.

After all, he was a man in a certain position. He was a man in a position that he could never forget about, not even for a moment. Don Pedro had carefully put his glass of water down, as he watched Benedick do his creep of shame, and known that this was a scandal in the making. Even if it never came out, he'd always know it was there. He'd always know it _could_ come out. In this business you had to be whiter than white, not one breath of such shame could attach itself to him or all their fights, all their battles might be in vain.

Curse him, Don Pedro thought viciously, damn him. Benedick was the prince's fool indeed, for by this one action he had cut up all his hopes.

He considered that which lay at the top of the stair. The room of Beatrice, the niece of Leonato. Dear Beatrice, whose brightness of spirit and beauty of form was such a highlight of his day. Dear Beatrice, whom he had in a mad moment considered approaching, whom he had, in a madder moment, considered approaching Leonato with talk of their... marriage. But that was over now.

Damn Benedick and his drunken, careless one night stand. Damn everything to hell.

Don Pedro had been there to see Benedick leave Beatrice's bed but she was not the only one who'd mourned.

***

"Will you have me, lady?" asked Don Pedro, even though he knew he should not. Even as he asked, he asked lightly, and turned it into a jest. How could he do less, as to do more would offer hope where hope there was none. For him or for her.

She turned it adroitly, as she always did, he loved that about her. He tried not to think too much on how good a wife to a politician she would have made. She had ten times the brains of her insipid pretty cousin, and a hundred times the wit. She would have presided at the White House with gusto, charm and all the diplomacy she had just shown in her rejection of his offer, one that made him feel a hundred feet tall - too costly to wear every day indeed.

He smiled with her, before she left, and then complimented Leonato on his niece's pleasant spirits, a safe topic, and then listened to him praise her, which he realised he might be enjoying too much. He remembered her face as he'd joked about her losing the heart of Signior Benedick, not minutes earlier, how she'd laughed it off but there had been real pain in her eyes. It had not occurred to him until then that she might genuinely care for the man - Don Pedro had assumed it had been a careless mistake on both their parts, an impetuous decision, too soon regretted. He might have known that Beatrice was too wise a woman for that, a mistake had been made, but only in that she had trusted her feelings and her body both to a man such as Benedick, who was too shallow, too glib and too irresponsible to possibly realise the hurt he was causing to a woman such as Beatrice.

Don Pedro had long forgiven Benedick himself. It was not in his nature to bear grudges, he could not and remain an agile politician. An enemy yesterday was likely to be an ally today and a friend tomorrow, how much more forgiveness could he find for the laid back banter of a close companion like Benedick? It was not, Don Pedro attempted to remind himself, as though Benedick had known what he was doing to his prince.

But he understood Beatrice's continued animosity though, none better. Or rather, her raillery with Benedick as the object of her witty barbs. Don Pedro had enjoyed listening to them as the just outcome of such an incident and he thought Benedick deserved every one - Benedick _had_ known what he was doing to Beatrice. He must have known what the consequences to her might have been and how much more harshly public opinion would have judged her than ever it would have judged him - society being the unfair, hypocritical beast that it was. Benedick had been selfish, to Don Pedro's mind, and so suffering some teasing seemed little enough punishment.

But if Beatrice genuinely cared for the idiot? That was different. Don Pedro took a quick mental breath, the better to fortify himself for the dance to come. His analytical mind began moving pieces on the board, considering strategies, accepting and rejecting appropriate accomplices. Benedick was in a good financial position, he'd be able to support her in the style that she deserved, plus there was the dowry - a substantial one, he knew. Benedick's career would probably flourish in Beatrice's capable hands, so there could be no impediment there... In fact, Don Pedro could see a time much further ahead when Beatrice's aid might help Benedick be the rising political star, even perhaps to the possibility for running mates and the equivalent of electoral gold.

He clung to the image of Beatrice in his mind's eye as he had last seen her. Her soft brown hair, her slender figure, lithe in floating summer dresses. He would remember this week with great fondness and no little regret. She would have made the best wife that a politician could ask for - and in fact, she still would. He would make sure of that. Don Pedro ignored the pang in his own heart as he pictured Beatrice's melancholy face when she described giving Benedick a double heart for his single one. She would play dice for Benedick's affections no longer, unless those dice should be weighted in her favour by Don Pedro himself. He swore that to himself - he would see her happy, if he could see her as nothing more.

"I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other," said Don Pedro, with determination, his decision made, "I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it."


End file.
